


Of Hair Pins and Cravats

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, victorian!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: The morning after Watsons' engagement ball, Lord Wokingham climbs out of the window of a Miss Molly Hooper.





	Of Hair Pins and Cravats

“Wait!”

Her voice was hushed, but Lord Wokingham heard her despite his rather loud landing on the pebble stones. He turned around and looked up, her head appearing in the open window he just had jumped out of. His heart picked up its pace at the sight of her long waves, totally in disarray. The pearl of one of the hair pins sparkled in the light of the rising sun. Obviously, he hadn’t been as thorough with picking them out as he had thought.

“You forgot your cravat”, she half-whispered, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

With an affectionate smile, he re-climbed the frame for the rambler roses right below her window he had just jumped off of, never letting go of her eyes. Her blush intensified as he came closer and finally reached her window. He supported himself with both hands on the frame while he admired her disheveled state. The wild hair in combination with the big white sheet she had wrapped around her naked body was a sight Sherlock Holmes could very well get used to.

“I’m afraid my hands are occupied, Miss Hooper. And since you ripped it off in the first place…”

The lovely creature before him lowered her eyes shyly, but the mischievous smile on her small but oh so delicious lips gave away her true feelings about the occurrences of last night. Hesitantly, she bent down to him and his heart skipped a beat when their gazes locked and he could see the long-held feelings for him swirling in her big, gentle eyes.

Carefully, as if in fear he might fall off the frame at her touch, she placed the white strip of linen around his neck and, biting her bottom lip in concentration, tried to tie it. Sherlock observed her, memorizing every detail of her face in the first light of the day.

Then she giggled.

“I’m afraid it looks horrible”, she admitted.

Her thumb grazed the bare skin of his neck and for a moment Sherlock thought he really would fall off the frame.

“Don’t worry” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse, his eyes fixed on her lips, “you will have enough time to practice.”

The smile she gave him made his heart swell. It had been this smile that had made him betray his own convictions. He had never wanted to take a wife, but this smile and those eyes and the gentleness in which she had always told him off when he had crossed a line had made him realize how foolish he had been. She had made him a better man without trying to do so. He had wanted to be a better man for her and he was still trying. And God help him, she knew. She knew that she had found a way beneath his cold exterior and was now safely locked away in his heart. And there she would stay forever.

Her warm fingers cupped his face and he stood on tiptoes on the creaking frame to seal his lips with hers. The little hum she exclaimed sent a shiver up his spine. He kissed her as tenderly as possible, showing her what he felt rather than telling her. It was much easier this way…and so much more pleasant.

She sighed against his lips and he flinched in surprise just a tiny bit when her tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entry. Gone was the shy woman and his lover was back, his tender, passionate and very curious lover.

Her tongue stroke his in a way that made his toes curl and her hands wandered into his full black curls, gently pulling at his follicles; a marvelous feeling. Marvelous but very dangerous, indeed. He felt his blood gathering in his middle section and the longing to slip into her loving embrace once again became almost unbearable.

So he broke this delicious kiss, much to both of their displeasure. She stated hers with a frustrated sigh.

Sherlock rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, enjoying her warmth and her breath on his face.

“My darling, it was you who insisted on the formalities. It would be my greatest pleasure to go back to bed with you and wait for the housemaid to find us so your father will marry us off within a fortnight.”

Her fingers traced along his cheekbones as she giggled.

“No. We will do this the right way. It’s the only way I’ll ever accept you as my husband…Sherlock.”

He shuddered. The way she said his given name was precious. It amused him that she still hesitated to call him this, even though she couldn’t stop moaning his name last night.

“I don’t think what we did last night would be considered ‘the right thing’”, he pointed out with a cheeky smile even though he gave a toss what society said.

“No, it definitely wasn’t decent at all. You should be ashamed of yourself for seducing me, Mr. Holmes.”  
He looked at her in disbelief. Then she grinned and his lips turned upwards. It had been in fact her who had seduced him at last night’s ball with her flirtatious looks and the secret touches when no attention had been paid to them. And as mentioned, she had already slipped beneath his skin and the longing to be with her in every possible way had lingered on his mind for far too long. So he had snuck out of his room last night and had entered hers, ignoring her feigned shock and had pulled her into his arms, where she very well belonged.  
It had been a blur after this, clothes had been hastily stripped off, fabric had been torn until they had been both naked and lying on her spacious, very comfortable bed. Everything had been sharp again after he had felt her bare flesh beneath his fingers. He had explored every inch of her, had catalogued every sensation her touch had awoken in him. Just thinking of all those hours they had debauched in each other’s tenderness made it incredibly hard to part from this fascinating woman.

“Leave your window open tonight”, he whispered, not even trying to hide the longing in his voice nor in his eyes.  
Her smile became tender and while she blushed she nodded, pressing one last kiss to his hungry lips.  
She lingered, her thumbs caressing his cheeks, and he placed a parting kiss on the corner of her mouth. She, too, had problems speaking of what she was feeling. But he understood, anyway.  
In a very daring manoeuver, Sherlock let one hand go of the frame to reach into her hair and fish out the little silver hair pin with the perfect white pearl on top. Looking at her surprised face, he pressed the cool pearl to his lips before he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Good day, Miss Hooper”, he said and his smile was honest and boyish.  
Miss Hooper (Molly, always Molly in his mind) giggled and bowed her head with surprising grace, considering her state of dressing.  
“Good day, Mylord.”  
With another grin, Sherlock finally broke their eye contact and climbed down the frame once again, jumping off of it and landing on the pebble stone path.  
He looked up and smiled as he saw her giving him a little wave before she closed the window.

 

Happy and more at ease than in a long time, Sherlock followed the path around Granshire Hall to his own room when suddenly someone landed right in front of him. The blonde woman straightened herself and her dress before she looked up at the Lord of Wokingham without the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks.  
“Good morning, Mylord”, she greeted him nonchalantly and a short glance to the open window on the second floor told him where she had spent the night. It was no surprise for him, though.  
“Good morning, Lady Compton. As I see you enjoy a morning walk, as well.”

Mary Morstan only gave him a warning look.

“A splendid engagement ball. I have to praise your mother for arranging it. Most festive.”  
“Oh, don’t even try. We’ll be married next month, so there is no real harm done.”  
She started walking and he followed, calculating the odds of him and his best friend meeting and falling for women as liberated and unique in their own, unusual way as Molly Hooper and Mary Morstan.  
“I assume John fell sick and you seized the opportunity in using your extensive knowledge in medicine to cure him?”  
Mary grinned.  
“Sure. And you, by all means, must have heard Lady Molly scream bloody murder and ran to her aid, consoling her after she had a bad dream?”  
“Exactly.”  
“In this case, Mylord, you might want to consider rebinding your cravat. Whoever has done it has exceptionally poor skills.”  
They looked at each other. And started chuckling.  
Sherlock re-tied his cravat.  
Mary sighed happily and hooked an arm under his.  
They sauntered to the back of the impressive estate where both their rooms were situated. Mary had left her window open and a quick look down the row of windows told her that Sherlock had left his open, as well.  
With a knowing grin she motioned Sherlock to help her. They stepped into the bed of roses and Sherlock lifted Mary up at her waist. Quick and elegant as a tigress Mary climbed back into her room. Her blue eyes were sparkling with happiness and mischief.  
“See you at breakfast”, she grinned and he bowed his head formally, still standing in the bed.  
Then she closed her window.  
Sherlock stepped out of the bed of roses and, folding his hands on his back, started strolling through the park. Somehow, even after the exhaustions of dancing and making love for hours to his fiancée, Sherlock wasn’t tired at all.  
No, not a damn bit…


End file.
